


The Ballad of Lady Lannister

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Married Life, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Seven months since they were forced to marry, Jaime wakes to find his wife missing from their marriage bed.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 50
Kudos: 262





	The Ballad of Lady Lannister

**Author's Note:**

> remuslovestonks prompted "jb and first valentine's day as a couple". 
> 
> So, I've been doing a lot of divergent thinking recently, and I do wonder how show!Jaime was allowed to just...keep serving in the Kingsguard when no one wanted him to. So this is a little inspired from that and my desire to write romantic fluff this time of year. Enjoy! <3

Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, woke up in his bed alone. 

It was not an unusual set of events. He had often woken up alone. Cersei had never come to his chambers in the White Sword tower; nor had he lingered in hers after the deed was done. Jaime had slept by himself in the Stark camp, and he had slept by himself after his return to King’s Landing. It was only since making his vows to Catelyn Stark that he had slept beside another. Then, since making a separate set of vows in the Sept of Baelor, he had continued to sleep beside her. 

Jaime looked out at the empty pillow where he had often woken up to the sight of Brienne of Tarth and let out a soft, disappointed sigh. 

Two raps upon his father’s – upon _his_ – chamber door disturbed his musings on the disappearance of his new wife. “My Lord, Lady Lannister has gone to join your brother and Lady... _Lannister_ in the solar.” 

“Thank you, Peck.”

Rubbing his face clear of sleep, Jaime slipped out of bed and dressed for the day ahead. He preferred it when Brienne dressed – and _undressed_ – him: she took great care in the buttons and laces; enjoyed smoothing down the fabric of his tunic and running a calloused thumb over the embroidered lion over his heard. He had grown to appreciate the flush upon the apples of her cheeks as her gaze lingered upon him. It just wasn’t the same, dressing himself. 

Like it wasn’t the same, sleeping alone. 

Abandoning his bed chambers, Jaime traversed the halls of Casterly Rock for the solar where his brother and Lady Sansa often broke their fast. Entering the room, Jaime quickly realised the rest of the Lannister household had already assembled. His brother, _deliriously_ happy to be out of King’s Landing, poured over recent messages from all four corners of Westeros. Podrick, his squire, stood nearby; ready to refill his brother’s goblet at a moment’s notice. Bronn guarded the door. 

“My lord.” 

“Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. Always at the door.” 

Bronn raised a single eyebrow. “More entertaining than it looks. You’d be surprised what you can hear.” 

“I’m sure.” Jaime swept into the room, not wanting to give the sellsword another moment of his time. Along with Podrick and Bronn was Sansa’s handmaiden, Shae, and his wife’s squire, Arry. Sansa, of course. _And Brienne._ Her hair had grown in the moons since their nuptials; the Targaryen blonde strands now curling atop her shoulders. She wore breeches often but today wore a dress the colour of the sky. Jaime longed to kiss the corner of her mouth and wish his wife the best of mornings. Instead, he said: “Good morning, Everyone.”

Brienne was the first to speak; her eyes trailing over his crimson tunic and fingers flexing as if they had missed their familiar morning routine. “Good morning, Ser Jaime.”

“Lady Brienne.” His hand pressed to the back of her chair; his thumb brushing a sliver of skin uncovered by her dress. “Everyone is well, I take it?” 

A series of nods went around the room; a quiet Lannister breakfast commonplace at Casterly Rock. Arry poured him a cup of water and, between her and Podrick, served the two lords and ladies Lannister their breakfast. Sansa picked at her food. Brienne ate far too quickly; months, _years_ in war camps and travelling through forests and dirt roads led them both desperate to ensure they had a good meal. Tyrion just drank. 

“Anything interesting from the Maester?” Jaime asked as he speared a sliver of sausage. 

“Queen Margaery has given birth to a boy. Prince Garlan Baratheon.” 

Jaime felt a twinge in his chest that quickly faded. If Joffrey wasn’t his son, then Garlan wasn’t his grandson. Allowing the sensation to pass, Jaime confronted the larger truths of the news. “It won’t be long then. They’ll wait until his first nameday, and the King’s health will _suddenly_ fail.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

He turned to his wife’s squire, who looked _far_ too interested in Joffrey’s fate than she was supposed to. Thank the Gods they were in sensible company. “Everyone in this room is aware of Joffrey’s reputation. Once the Tyrell’s have control of the line of succession, they won’t need him anymore. If they’re clever, Margaery will be with her second child before they do it.” 

Every eye in the solar was upon him with varying degrees of sympathy. He ignored them all. Jaime had long ago given up any claim to his bastard children with Cersei. Not since she had pushed him aside upon his return to the capital; not since she had stood at _her_ son’s side in the throne room and watched him stripped of his white cloak in the same manner they had done to Ser Barristan. But he had not taken across the sea to find the young Targaryen. No, Jaime had fulfilled different vows. 

“In other news, Lord Bolton’s son has married Arya Stark, apparently,” Tyrion said, his eyes narrowing at Brienne’s squire before tossing the parchment to one side. “He is claiming Winterfell, which should keep Father at bay for some time.” 

“You’re a fool if you think that won’t push him into badgering you about an heir.”

“About that.” Both Lannister brothers turned to Lady Sansa. She rarely talked over breakfast; her commanding voice a surprise to them all. “Today is the Day of the Maiden, my Lords. I wish to light a candle at the sept and say a prayer. For... _obvious reasons,_ I cannot step foot in the Casterly sept to do so.” 

Only maidens could pray to the Seven on this day. To all those outside this room, Sansa Stark was no longer a maiden. She wet her lips and pushed forward with her request. “Is there a place where I could pray? I would pray in the gardens but—” Too many eyes watched them, even here; even now. “Lady Brienne is in the same position.” 

Jaime drew in a breath. “Of course, she is.” He tried not to let his eyes travel to his wife; to the mark he had made upon her collarbone the previous night whilst in the throes of passion. Since consummating their marriage six moons after their hands were tied in the sept, they had done nothing but. “I will see to it that it is done. Podrick?”

“I will handle the matter personally, my Lord. If it pleases you both, I do believe the servants might be distracted today. It is now a growing custom for some to celebrate Maiden’s Day in a different fashion. With love tokens and ballads.” 

His brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Y-yes, my Lord. I believe Queen Margaery is encouraging it. Flowers, gifts, sweet cakes. I hear in the Royal Court that lords are even commissioning ballads for their ladies.”

“I see.” 

Jaime had not paid attention to the changes in Court during his brief return to King’s Landing. He doubted Brienne had done, either; both were concerned with their nuptials and ensuring the safety first of Sansa, then of Arya. He had, however, intended to begin courting his wife upon the changing of the new moon. He’d instructed the gardeners to dig up the crimson roses and plant row after row of sunflowers. He had commissioned a new sword for Brienne to spar with in the training yard. He’d even— _well,_ the less he dwelled upon his attempts at becoming a minstrel, the better. 

“I believe several in the castle will take part in the festivities. In fact, I even found a scrap of a ballad someone had dropped in the armoury.” 

“Really, Podrick?” His brother said, eyes glittering. Oh, that _bastard._ That ruddy bastard. This is what Jaime got for organising his extraction from King’s Landing. “May I see? I love a good ballad.” 

Podrick handed the parchment over to his lord. Thankfully, Brienne and the Stark girls seemed unbothered by Tyrion’s attempts to embarrass his older brother. “ _Your eyes are as deep as the deepest ocean. Your smile is as radiant as the sun._ Wonderfully descriptive, isn’t he? _You are a shining light in the darkness that has overwhelmed me._ Isn’t a ballad supposed to rhyme?” 

“Not always.” Jaime gritted his teeth, slammed his knife and fork upon the table, and wiped his mouth with a cloth. “If it pleases you, Brother, my ladies, I think I will take my leave.” 

Brienne rose suddenly from the table. “If it pleases you, my Lord, I believe I will join you.”

“Of course. Brother, good-sister.” 

Together, he and Brienne left the solar. A single nod was all it took to allow Arya to remain with her sister, as she did most mornings. Then the two of them were alone, as they had often been in the other’s company. Sometimes, Jaime wished his brother would have stayed in King’s Landing. He and Brienne could have had the run of Casterly Rock, and he would not have had to hide the knowledge that he was in love with his own wife. But, alas, Brienne would not have agreed to come had Sansa not joined them. 

He was damned no matter what he did. “I missed you when I awoke this morning.” 

“Forgive me, Ser, I had a great deal to think about.” 

_As reticent as always._ “We have been married seven moons, now, Brienne. I think you can drop the _Ser.”_

“You did not offer that request last night.” She smirked; her eyes alive and wanting. “In fact, you rather enjoyed it when I called you _Ser_.” 

Turning into an alcove, Jaime tugged on Brienne’s arm and pulled her out of sight. “You don’t regret what we have begun, then?”

She shook her head. “I thought I have made my... _enjoyment_ obvious, Jaime.” 

_Jaime._ Gods, he loved it when she called him that. “You have, but it’s still nice to hear. So, tell me, what troubles you so that you would leave our _enjoyable_ bed?”

A line crossed Brienne’s forehead, and Jaime longed to smooth it with kisses. He longed to do a great deal with his kisses. “It is something that I have been thinking of for some time, and the news of Lord Bolton at Winterfell has only made it more pressing. Your brother has been...I am loath to say the word _kind._ He is not bedding Sansa, and your father is denied a Lannister heir for the North. I believe that if he is provided with an heir for the Rock, then it might distract him long enough for us to get Sansa and Arya to their brother, Jon.” 

He stared; sure he had misheard. “You want me to get you with child?” 

“Yes.” 

He swallowed. “For the safety of the Stark girls.” 

A pink flush stained her cheeks, and Jaime’s heart soared. She wanted him. She wanted his child. He would be a father. Hold his babe in his arms; have everyone from Dorne to the Wall know that the cub he held was _his_ and _hers._ “I have fulfilled my oath to Lady Stark. I have yet to fulfil my oath to you.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“ _I owe you everything_. I—” Jaime lifted his left hand to cup her cheek; she trembled under his touch. “I never believed I could feel as I do for you. I believe I am not alone in that feeling.”

He shook his head. “You are not. In fact, the ballad that my brother tortured us with over breakfast was from my hand. I had intended to woo you, Brienne. Unfortunately, I am not as adept with a sword as I am with words.”

“All I require is three.”

Jaime beamed. “Very well, my Lady. Upon this Day of the Maiden, let me declare it: _I love you._ ”

“I love you. And I intend to fulfil the vows I made to you, Jaime.”

His thumb traced the corners of her smile. Ever-honourable; ever-dutiful. “I know, Brienne.”

“And I know you’ll fulfil the vows you made to me.” 

Lifting his head, Jaime met Brienne’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss. She tasted of salt from the wind coming over the Sunset Sea; felt solid underneath his touch as Jaime’s left hand found purchase atop her shoulder. They were not coy in their movements from the alcove to the chambers of Lord and Lady of the Rock. Jaime was quite sure, in fact, that news would reach his father and sister by day’s end of how Lord Lannister made love to his wife from sunrise to sunset on the day of the Maiden.

At least, that was how it was told a year later when he and Brienne visited King’s Landing to introduce King Garlan to his second-cousin, Lady Catelyn of Houses Lannister and Tarth. 


End file.
